Killer Attraction
by FlubNuggetx
Summary: Charlie never imagined any sort of attraction towards General Monroe, let alone acting on it. But as these two spend more time together, fighting the connection they share becomes more difficult. A "Charloe" FanFiction beginning after episode 2x06 'Dead Man Walking'.
1. Chapter 1

Monroe/Charlie

Chapter 1

His weight felt satisfying, putting pressure on all the right places. His lips grazed her neck, moving down to kiss her collarbone tenderly as she let out a small moan. Her fingers ran through his curls and down his shoulders, digging into his skin to return the feelings of pleasure, pain, and angst. She could feel her temperature rising as their bodies began to move together rhythmically.

"Charlie, you gotta wake up."

A quiet grumble escaped Charlie's parted lips as she instinctively pulled the covers over her head. Light pouring in from the window across the room and the muffled voices from the streets outside her grandfather's house only added to her pounding headache. Memories of the previous evening slowly came to her – the blurred outline of a man pouring drink after drink, the familiar and warm feeling of alcohol taking its effect on her body. Charlie squeezed her eyes tight in an attempt to ease the pain of her overworking brain.

"I know you're not feeling well, but there's something you need to see."

She slowly opened one eye to see Rachel sitting at the foot of her bed, folding freshly washed clothing and placing it beside her. Charlie groaned, hiding her face in the pillow. Her mother was the last person she wanted to see at the moment.

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. "Trust me, you'll want to wake up for this." After several painstakingly long minutes, she finally convinced her daughter to put on a clean pair of jeans and tank top.

When they arrived downstairs, Charlie heard a familiar voice. "Hey, kid. Hope you're doing okay after last night."

Charlie couldn't help the smile that crept its way to the corners of her mouth. Something about her Uncle Miles always seemed to brighten her mood; yet as her tired eyes made contact with Miles', she realized he looked just as terrible and she probably did. His hair, greasy and limp, lay flat across his forehead. Dirt and blood formed a trail down the side of his face from his bruised eye to his jawline. The bags under his eyes indicated he hadn't slept in days, although he managed to form a small smile as she inspected him. "What the hell happened?" Charlie croaked, her voice hoarse and dry.

Miles chuckled, limping over to embrace her in a hug. As she rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, he looked behind her to Rachel. She nodded slightly.

"Charlie," he said, placing his hand on her shoulders. "We both thought Bass was dead—"

And then it hit her. Visions of General Monroe walking to his execution clouded her mind. She remembered him looking at her directly moments before the injection. She remembered her mother formulating the lethal injection herself, revenge burning in her eyes. She remembered the crowds of people rejoicing his death as if a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. And there had been a time when Charlie would have joined them in their celebration; she had spent months tracking Monroe and plotting his death. Yet, now that he was dead, she felt a certain bit of hollowness in the pit of her stomach. Maybe that was just hunger pains, though. She hadn't eaten properly in days.

"—and we coped together in the only way I know how…" Miles continued on, "Drowning myself in whiskey. I guess I convinced you to do the same, and by the looks of it, you've got yourself one bitch of a hangover. Sorry about that."

She nodded her head in forgiveness, but even the simple movement heightened her headache. God, she hadn't felt this terrible since the day after she was drugged in the bar. The day Monroe saved her. Charlie shook her head violently, opting to feel the pain of her hangover rather than relive all those moments with Monroe on the way to Willoughby.

Miles raised an eyebrow at her sudden movement. "Look, the bastard deserved to die, you and I both know that. But it's one of those things where when the thing you most wanted finally happens, you're left feeling unsatisfied."

What the hell was he talking about? Charlie tightened her jaw, glancing over to her mother and then back to Miles. "What did you want to show me?" she asked, growing impatient. She didn't come downstairs for some eulogy on Miles and Monroe's friendship. She had heard enough about that from the bastard himself.

"He's still alive, Charlie."

Charlie couldn't keep her jaw from dropping. A hundred emotions danced through her mind: anger, astonishment, relief, rage, confusion. "H—how?" her voice was barely audible, shaky and constrained.

Rachel began to pack a bag with water and weapons. "I'll explain later. We don't have much time."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry there hasn't been a whole lot of action yet... don't worry though, there will be soon! Let me know if you're enjoying it so far. Xo

Chapter 2

Monroe had been passing in and out of consciousness for the past two days, the grogginess often overtaking his body even when he was awake. Rachel had stripped him from his clothes twice now, and although the thought of her washing his body with her bare hands terrified him, he was grateful. At least he looked and smelled decent when Miles and Charlie first came to see him.

Charlie. He was afraid to even consider the thought that she might have forgiven him for everything he had done, but there was something there. Her face, as beautiful as it was, remained stone cold when she entered the room yesterday with Rachel and Miles – she wouldn't even walk through the doorway to his room, and instead merely asked her mother when he would be able to travel, before turning on her heels and exiting the house. But she returned later that night. She hesitated beneath the door frame for several moments, like a bird contemplating its first leap into flight, before she tiptoed to his bedside. She had assumed he was unconscious, but Monroe felt her warm hand close around his. There was such a contrast between her soft palms and his calloused fingers, and he ached to return the grasp. He didn't, for fear that she would pull away. They remained that way for several minutes, and he could have sworn he heard her whisper his name, but that could have been the breeze through the window.

He shut his eyes abruptly, forcing the images out of his mind. Why did he care so much about this girl? She had spent the better portion of the past six months trying to kill him; he should be plotting her death in return. But there was some part of her presence that thawed his heart. She brought out his humanity, much in the same way that Miles used to.

"You awake?" Miles appeared suddenly above his bed. "Here, you should eat something," he grumbled, placing a plate of some sort of meat and potato dish on the night stand.

Monroe shook his head and turned away from Miles. Moving each of his muscles had become such a difficult task since Rachel had injected him with whatever the hell that was. He was stiff and sore, but he longed to leave his room and step outside. He needed fresh air. He needed something to do, some sort of task… being alone for so long had left him with nothing but his own thoughts and reflections, and they haunted him more than any U.S. soldier he could possibly encounter. He had pleaded to leave this god forsaken cabin, but Rachel wouldn't hear of it.

He heard the pound of a fist to the table beside him. "God damn it, Bass. Stop acting like a little boy and pull yourself together. We're trying to help you, and you're too immature to accept it," Miles roared. "What do you want from me, Bass? Do you want me to set you loose so you can die out there? This would all be for nothing!"

"I want you to take me to my son." Monroe's voice faltered as he said the words, but his eyes remained steady while he turned around to face Miles again. It seemed so foreign to him still, but the fact that Miles had known for all these years only made it that much worse. Had he really been such a monster that he couldn't meet his own child? He wasn't sure, but he knew the decision should have been his own to make.

Miles shook his head slowly and left the room. Monroe threw a potato in his direction, his body trembling with rage, but made contact only with the closing door. He buried his face in his hands as he willed himself to hold back the tears forming behind his eyes.

oOo

It had been four days since the execution. Monroe was walking about the cabin now, up on his feet with a full range of motion. Charlie felt somewhat relieved to see his progress, but couldn't help wondering if they would have been better off without him. Sure, he was an excellent fighter, an even better killer, but where did his motives lie?

At the same time, she found herself almost captivated by his presence. He walked throughout the cabin half-dressed, and often times she would bring dinner to his room to find him in nothing but his boxers. "Eyes up," he would tease her. Her eyes may have narrowed in response, but she couldn't help the sudden flush in her cheeks. She prayed he never noticed in the dim lighting.

Other times Charlie would bring him a meal while he was sleeping; she had never seen Monroe so vulnerable before. His sculpted body would rise and fall and his steady breathing calmed her. His lips always seemed so soft, his teeth so white, his body so. . .

Charlie snapped to reality. She couldn't let her mind stray off into these fantasies. What had gotten into her? This was the man who destroyed her family – her father, her brother, everyone she cared about. He had kept her mother from her through her entire childhood, and the grief he caused Miles was clearly immeasurable. Everything he touched, he spoiled. So why did she feel the need for him to touch her?

"Charlotte."

She whipped around to see Monroe standing behind her, breathing raggedly, and stumbling towards her. He advanced quickly, catching her by surprise. He didn't stop until she found herself backed up into the wall. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, his eyes dulled. He placed his hands firmly on her hips and pressed his forehead against hers. Charlie caught her breath, frozen in the moment.

Monroe must have realized what was happening as he snapped his head back and released his grip, which had slid up the her waist. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered, staggering out the room.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is a bit short, but necessary to set up what's coming! Hope you all are having an amazing holiday. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Xo

Chapter 3

Monroe slammed his fist into the wall. What the hell had he just done? All control over his physical attraction to Charlie slipped away in that moment, but now his senses were slowly resurfacing. He couldn't erase from his mind the way her eyes locked with his, the way a golden curl of hair brushed over her cheek, or the way she didn't even flinch when their faces were mere inches apart. How easy it would have been for him to tilt his chin towards hers and meet her soft lips with his. _It was just the alcohol_, he reassured himself. _She'll understand. She'll know it hadn't meant anything_.

He pounded his knuckles into the wall once more, this time breaking through the drywall. Monroe glanced at his bloodied hand, cursing his own stupidity, and then stumbling over to his bed. He didn't even bother to change his clothing or bathe himself before collapsing face-down onto the tattered mattress. _It hadn't meant anything, it hadn't meant anything_, he repeated to himself before giving in to his own drowsiness.

oOo

It had now been over a week since the execution, and one day since the group left the makeshift cabin. Miles insisted that they kept moving in order to avoid being found. After all, they were travelling with a man presumed to be dead. The security in Willoughby had tightened drastically since their disappearance, but Rachel made it clear that they would not leave without Aaron. Charlie had overheard their muffled arguments over the past week about how they would sneak past the armed guards until they finally reached a consensus.

"We need to create a diversion," Rachel informed the group. "Something big enough to draw off most of the guards so that we can sneak Aaron and Cynthia out—"

"—and we need to do it at night," Miles interrupted her, now pacing back and forth. "They've started enforcing a strict curfew after dark, and the less innocent people walking around, the better."

Charlie looked at Monroe, but his face remained steady. She found herself surprised at his compliance in helping with the escape plan; she assumed he would have been long gone by now. In fact, part of her wished he was. Charlie hadn't been alone with him since the night he drunkenly backed her into the wall, and since then there had been a noticeable tension between them. Monroe refused to look her in the eye or address her directly – when she entered a room he would leave abruptly. Even Rachel commented on their obvious avoidance of each other, but Charlie shrugged her off. As far as she was concerned, the less she had to see Monroe, the better.

"Right, and that's where you two come in," Rachel continued on.

Monroe cleared his throat. "What do we have to do?" he asked. Charlie looked over to him, but his head remained still. He would not look at her, not yet.

Miles stopped pacing and turned to face Charlie. "It might be a little dangerous, but we need you to set off several bombs near Willoughby. Close enough to get their attention, but far away enough so that we have time to slip in and slip out. If you injure some soldiers, fine, but no one else gets hurt," he instructed them, eyeing Monroe as he said the last bit.

Charlie frowned, frustrated at the prospect of working alone with Monroe. "I want to help you get Aaron," she offered. "You don't need two people to blow something up."

At this, Monroe glanced sideways to Charlie. Was he offended by her reluctance? She couldn't read his face, but she noticed him clench his jaw in response.

"No, you're probably right," Miles conceded. "But this way you can keep an eye on each other, and be ready for us when we've got Aaron. I don't like the idea of you running around the woods with explosives by yourself. Two people are always better than one, Charlie."

"We'll do it," Monroe stated firmly.

Charlie glared at him. What had she gotten herself into? Working side by side with Monroe . . . the thought made her shiver – not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of what she might do if she found herself alone with him again.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update… I'm so excited for you guys to read this chapter though! Let me know what you think! Xo**

Chapter 4

"Are we going to talk about what happened or not?" Charlie asked quietly, staring fixedly at her fumbling hands as she mended a bent arrow.

Monroe remained silent for a moment. He had been avoiding her for days now in the hopes that she would forget the whole encounter. Truthfully, he didn't know what to say to her. Was he supposed to apologize for putting her in an awkward position? Should he blame his drunkenness and ignore his underlying feelings? Were these even really feelings? These thoughts had been overwhelming his brain over the past few days and the anticipation of this conversation made him rather tense. Part of him wanted her to say he should've kissed her, yet another part of him dared her to slap him across the face. This was Miles' niece, after all, making Monroe old enough to be her father himself. He shuddered, refusing to think about their age difference. Age difference only mattered in romantic relationships – there was nothing sexual between him and Charlie.

She cleared her throat. "Monroe…" she began, slowly walking towards him.

"Charlie," he breathed, his eyes lazily roaming her body until they locked with hers. Feelings of longing and lust crept their way into his gut. He was so afraid that if she pressed any harder, he would cave in and make a move that he would later regret. Monroe swallowed hard, maintaining eye contact with her. "I can't talk to you right now. You need to leave me alone."

She sensed the pain in his voice and realized what he really wanted – what he had wanted for weeks now. Batting her eyes at him as seductively as she knew how, she let one strap of her top slide down her shoulder. She didn't bother to tuck back the strands of her hair that had cascaded softly along her collarbone as she advanced closer to him. Her lips parted slightly and she licked them, glancing down to his briefly before returning her gaze to his eyes. They now stood just inches apart; Monroe could feel his resolve slipping away.

"Well, you're going to have to talk to me," Charlie whispered. "We're partners in this now, remember?" She smirked, turning on her heels and walking out of the abandoned shed they had been staying in.

oOo

The morning came fairly quickly. This was the day of their escape plan, and if everything went smoothly, their group would be far away from Willoughby by nightfall.

"Are we all clear on the plan? We'll split up right away. Charlie and Bass will head straight to the East Bridge. Wait about thirty minutes – that'll give Rachel and I enough time to scope out the guards by Aaron's house. Once you detonate the bombs, you run. You stick together, and you run. The explosion will be enough of a distraction for us to get Aaron and Cynthia out," Miles stated, though it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of their strategy more than the others. "The rendezvous point is the marina 2 miles north of Willoughby. It won't take long for the patriots to figure out what's going on, so if you two get there first, you only wait for us for an hour, tops."

Charlie snapped her head up, her eyes widened in bewilderment. "We're not leaving without you guys," she said firmly.

Miles held up his hand to silence her. "Waiting is not an option. If it takes us too long to get out, we'll find another way. The patriots will have that marina closed off by nightfall once they realize Aaron is missing." He reached in his bag and pulled out four safety flares. "Anyone gets in trouble, throw one of these up," he said, handing one each to Bass, Charlie, and Rachel. "These bad boys will draw in every patriot within a half-mile radius, so only use yours if you really need to."

Monroe stared blankly at the flare in his hands. "So if we see one of these, we're just supposed to drop everything and head in that direction?"

"No," Rachel spoke up. "If you're close enough, fine. If not, then you know there's one less person to wait for at the marina." Her voice was monotone, her eyes lifeless.

Charlie stood up. "If anyone sends up a flare then we need to help them, not desert them! What the hell is wrong with you people?" she yelled, her arms waving about madly.

"Our primary goal is Aaron," Rachel replied simply. "Everyone else is collateral damage—"

"—It won't matter because we're all going to get out of here fine," Miles cut her off, directing his gaze to Charlie. "Just remember that we are severely outnumbered. Nobody here is going to risk their life for a lost cause."

Charlie glowered at them. She could not believe what she was hearing… they were all acting as if this was some sort of suicide mission.

oOo

Monroe and Charlie had been walking in relative silence for nearly an hour. The sun was just beginning to set when they reached the bridge.

"Now what?" Charlie muttered, crouching down behind an abandoned car just off the entrance to the bridge. She carefully set down the backpack containing the bombs and let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

"We wait. Half an hour and then we set off the bombs," Monroe replied, sitting down beside her. They sat for several minutes without speaking, though this time the silence was not as uncomfortable.

Finally, Charlie looked over to Monroe. "You know, I was pretty surprised at how willing you were to help with this plan."

"Yeah, well, it was either help sneak out your chubby nerd friend or roam around the woods by myself," he muttered. "If you haven't noticed, I don't have a whole lot of people to go back to."

That was the understatement of the century. The entirety of the Monroe Republic and majority of his militia had been wiped off the face of the Earth when the nukes hit Philadelphia. Those who remained either hated Monroe, were too afraid to start up a new republic, or thought that he was dead. His entire family died before the blackout. The only group of people who even tolerated his presence consisted of Miles, Rachel, and Charlie. And even they had considered leaving him for dead on multiple occasions.

Although Charlie could hardly justify his past actions, she felt somewhat sorry for Monroe. "What makes you think we want you here with us?" she teased, shoving him lightly on the shoulder.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know, Charlotte. I get the feeling you guys need me a lot more than I need you."

Another ten minutes passed before they decided to set up the bombs on the bridge. They had six bombs placed strategically along the road; each of them would light three fuses and then run north as quickly as possible. Neither Charlie nor Monroe knew how great the explosions would be, but they knew the area would be crawling with patriots soon enough.

"Are you ready?" Monroe called out from the other side of the bridge.

Charlie tightened her grip on the lighter in her hand. "Yeah!" she yelled back, her breath growing more rapid.

"GO!"

oOo

Everything had happened so quickly, it didn't even register in Charlie's mind that they had already been walking over a mile. The explosion was so extreme that the entire bridge collapsed, and the surrounding land was severely impacted. They barely had time to appreciate their work before they heard the shouting of nearby patriots and had to take off running. The diversion worked out smoothly on their end, and Charlie prayed that Miles and Rachel would have enough time to get Aaron and Cynthia out safely.

The sun had already set and the sky was quickly fading to black. Charlie could barely keep up with Monroe's long, fast strides, and the uphill terrain wasn't helping much. Her legs were just beginning to ache when she heard the echoing of a distant gunshot. She stopped walking abruptly, looking around for the source.

Monroe turned to face her. "It was probably just a patriot firing at an animal or something," he tried to convince her. "Come on, let's keep going. We've still got a lot of ground to cover."

That's when she saw it – the glistening red flare, barely visible in the sky over the treeline, about a mile and a half south of them. "Oh my god," Charlie whispered, her body frozen. "We have to go back."


End file.
